


The Hardest Lesson

by Anzier



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Cultural References, Dragons, Family, Family Issues, Fantasy, Fire Nation Royal Family, Firebending & Firebenders, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Loss, MY CABBAGES, Other, Post-Canon, Short, Spiritual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-07 23:33:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19095265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anzier/pseuds/Anzier
Summary: All is well in the Fire Nation when Uncle Iroh comes to visit with a gift that could change the world. But as Iroh's health quickly fails, Zuko must face his duties as Fire Lord and his grief as a nephew, all while knowing that the one person he could always count on will soon be gone forever.





	1. Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> This story is complete (though subject to edits as I go) and chapters will be posted weekly. It is significantly smaller than my previous stories, both of which were related to Mass Effect, and a completely different storytelling style. This story was both challenging to write and extremely meaningful to me. I hope readers enjoy it and leave a comment.
> 
> Familiarity with the source material is not strictly necessary, but there are some references to the original that enhance the experience if you know them. There are also references to massive spoilers; if you haven't seen Avatar: The Last Airbender, you absolutely should, as it's one of the best (if not *the* best) animated shows of my lifetime.

The heat of the Fire Lord’s throne room was rarely the only reason its visitors would sweat. The fires that burned on either side of the throne, lit by its ruler and extinguished at the end of their reign, bathed the chamber in a light that was either beautiful or menacing, depending on the viewer.

It was here where Fire Lord Zuko sat, dispensing his royal duties. The weight of hundreds of generations of Fire Lords bore down on his every decision, a simultaneous honor and burden, a sacrosanct burning that would either leave his spirit purified or in smoldering ashes.

“Cabbages.”

The scrawny merchant stood before him, before the flames, and said, unblinking, with all the seriousness of war, “Yes, Lord Zuko. Your, er, retinue has irreparably damaged exactly ninety-two of my cabbages, which I sell for a living, and three carts with which I transport them. These events occurred before you were Fire Lord, but it was still your friends who were responsible. I demand reparations.”

Zuko felt his eye start to twitch. _Patience. Remember the basics._ He took a deep, slow breath. The flames to his sides grew with his inhale and shrank with his exhale, as though they were breathing with him. The merchant took a small step back. _You are a fair and stable-minded ruler, not an irrational teenager._ “I see. And may I ask, why bring this up with me instead of, I don’t know, the Avatar?”

“I tried, Fire Lord, but Avatar Aang is extremely hard to find and follow.”

“Don’t I know it,” Zuko muttered, the side of his face turning up into a grin.

“Lord?”

“Nothing. Very well, I will compensate you for your...product. What is the amount you seek?”

The merchant produced an abacus from somewhere within his robe. “Well, there’s the cabbages themselves, then the carts, supplier fees, opportunity cost, loss of potential business, pain and suffering...I’d say the amount comes to, oh, approximately sixty thousand gold pieces, Fire Lord.”

His eye twitched again.

“But my cabbages!” The merchant cried as the guards dragged him out.

Zuko sighed into his hand, grateful for the blessed few moments of privacy he would have until the next meeting.

“You handled that well,” said a voice from above.

Zuko jumped to his feet, his fists up and aiming into the dark above his throne. A familiar laugh echoed through the chamber. Zuko relaxed. “How long have you been there?”

“Just a few minutes.” There was a gust of air as Aang dropped to the ground, landing so softly on his feet that his robes barely even rustled. “I’ve been avoiding that guy for months.”

“You shouldn’t be spying on official Fire Nation business,” Zuko said, scowling. Just when Aang started to look nervous, however, he smiled. “But I _am_ glad to see you.” They embraced then, as best friends reunited. “You got taller.”

“Thanks! Your hair got longer.” Aang’s shaved head glistened in the firelight. In addition to being taller, his voice had taken on a slight crack. “Trying to make me jealous?”

“It’s custom for the Fire Lord to grow his hair out,” Zuko said, adjusting the golden pin stuck in the bun on his head. “Wait. Why are you here? Is there trouble? The New Ozai Society?”

“Nope! At least, not that I know of. I’m actually here with someone.”

“Katara?”

“Nah, she’s working the clinic in the South Pole. My friend should be here any minute...sometimes I forget how long it takes to climb all those stairs.”

The chamber doors opened. A guard stepped in and offered Zuko a customary bow. “Fire Lord Zuko, your uncle Iroh is at the gate and requests and audience.”

“Uncle’s here?” Zuko looked to Aang, who stood beaming. “Send him in!”

The guard bowed and retreated, leaving the doors open. Iroh’s stocky figure shuffled in moments later, cradling something in his arms. The collar of his tunic was soaked in sweat, and he spoke between deep gulps of air.

“It’s good...to see you...Nephew...”

Zuko embraced Iroh in a tight hug, taking care to avoid the wet patches in the old man’s tunic. “Uncle. It’s good to see you too.” He stepped sway and cleared his throat. “I mean, you honor us with your presence.”

Having regained his breath, Iroh bowed. “The honor is mine to stand in the light of the Fire Lord. You have been practicing your decorum.”

“The fire priests have been teaching me. I feel like a little kid learning how to hold a fork. But, Uncle, why are you here? Who’s watching the tea shop?”

“Oh, ah, the Jasmine Dragon is fine. Actually, I’m here because of this!”

Iroh gently unfurled the bundle in his arms, revealing an object that seemed to exude effervescence in the firelight. Aang hovered over Zuko’s shoulder to watch.

“Is that...?”

“It is,” Iroh said, grinning like a man who had found the world’s most precious treasure. And, in point of fact, he might well have.

“It’s a dragon egg!”


	2. National Treasure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actually, I don't think I'll do weekly updates after all. I'm eager to get this story out, and the chapters are short anyway (except for the last one, which is over 4,000 words long...oh well). I imagine I'll get the whole thing out over the next few days, if not all today or tomorrow. 
> 
> At least it won't take me six years.
> 
> Enjoy!

The Fire Sages gathered around the egg, their eyes wide and mouths agape. Zuko wished he could paint the moment and hang the portrait in his bedchamber. The egg was larger than a platypus-bear’s but not quite as heavy. It lay nestled on a cushion. Sunlight beamed down from an opened skylight, and the smooth surface seemed to shimmer in a multitude of colors, similar to when water and oil mixed together.

“I thought the dragons were extinct!” Great Sage Shyu said. “Iroh—forgive me—proclaimed the last dragon slain years ago!”

Iroh shrugged. “I might have exaggerated a little. My nephew knows my penchant for grand stories.”

“Zuko and I encountered two dragons before,” Aang said.

It was an experience Zuko would never forget: the perfectly synchronous dance the masters Ran and Shaw displayed, the humility he had felt standing mere feet away from their fangs, the heat of their brilliant flames as they taught him and the Avatar the secret to true firebending.

“Uncle, how did you get this?”

“Ah! Well, I decided to visit the Sun Warriors again, so I contacted the Avatar—” Aang waved. “—and he and Appa graciously provided me an escort. I wanted to see the masters one more time and thank them for teaching you what I could not.” He turned his head and coughed. “Though not for lack of trying...”

“The egg, Uncle.”

“Er, yes. I approached the altar as before, but I forgot I needed an offering of the Eternal Flame. I thought I was going to become their lunch then and there; quite a twist of fate, me _becoming_ food instead of _eating_ it! But instead, I offered them the only thing I could: some tea I brought with me from Ba Sing Se.”

Zuko tried picturing it: his Uncle and the two grand, majestic dragons, sitting at a blanket with teacups. “You...served them...tea?”

“Yes! And I’ll have you know; _they_ liked my invention with the boiled tapioca balls.” Iroh smiled proudly. “When we finished, they blessed me with another dance of fire. When the flames vanished, the dragons were gone, but this egg was there.”

“Incredible,” Shyu said. “This is the first known dragon egg in a hundred years.”

 “So,” Aang said. “What do we do with the egg?”

Shyu reverently picked the egg up and cradled it in his arms. He knelt before Zuko and held it out to him, head bowed. “Traditionally, the Fire Lord would hatch the egg and train the dragon as his or her mount. Lord Zuko would be the first Fire Lord with a dragon mount since...”

“Since my great-grandfather started hunting them,” Zuko finished. He looked at the egg before him. Historically, some hunters would crush a dragon egg instead of slaying an adult, then return to claim their title of Dragon from the Fire Lord. Surely, he didn’t have the right to take a dragon hatchling and treat it like a pet after everything his family had done to their species. He looked to Iroh. “Ran and Shaw gave the egg to you, Uncle.”

Iroh shook his head. “I don’t have nearly the stamina to raise a dragon, let alone ride one. Though I must admit, my teashop would have the _perfect_ mascot.” He put a hand on Zuko’s shoulder. The Fire Sages exchanged nervous glances at the breach of royal protocol. “I believe the masters wanted you to have it. You are in a position to return the dragons to the world, Zuko.”

Aang approached the egg. “It’s your decision, but I think you should do it. This could be a chance to right one of Sozin’s many wrongs.”

Zuko regarded Aang sadly. Even though he had nothing to do with the genocide of the Air Nomads, he felt ashamed whenever he thought of Aang being alone in the world, and his country’s—as well as his family’s—role in causing that to happen. As the leader of the Fire Nation, he and his descendants would carry that shame forever. Aang was in the perfect position to understand the right course of action. Zuko couldn’t bring back the Air Nomads...but perhaps he could bring back the dragons.

He carefully took the egg from Shyu’s hands. It was surprisingly light and radiated a steady, living warmth from its center. A profound weight of responsibility descended on him the likes of which he hadn’t experienced since his coronation, but as he held the egg in his arms, he also felt an increasing sense of excitement.

As a child, he’d always dreamed about riding a dragon.


	3. A Chance for Redemption

“So…what now?”

They gathered around the egg, which Zuko kept on a cushion in his private quarters. Aang touched the egg in several spots as if the feeling would signal what to do.

Zuko shrugged. “I’m not sure. Dragon rearing techniques were lost after Sozin started hunting them.”

“Nobody wrote them down?”

“If they did, they didn’t bother to keep any copies in the royal library.”

“Hmm. Hey, why did Sozin start hunting dragons anyway?”

“That…is a good question, actually. Uncle?”

Like Zuko moments before, Iroh shrugged. “I never got to ask my grandfather, and none of the histories I read touched on why he started hunting dragons. Whatever his reasoning, dragons were revered as sacred by our people once upon a time.” He stretched and let off a massive yawn. Smoke trailed from his mouth when he finished. “Well, let me know if you discover anything. I think I could use a nap.”

Zuko smacked his own forehead. “That’s right! I’m sorry, Uncle; you traveled such a long way to get here. I wish you’d let me know so I could send you a retinue…”

“Oh, no, a bunch of stuffy guards would ruin the trip! Besides, you’re far too busy to devote resources to a single old man. The Avatar provided more than sufficient guidance for my journey; now I just need some rest.”

Zuko summoned a servant to take Iroh to his bedchamber. A young woman arrived and offered Iroh an arm, which he took with exaggerated enthusiasm. _Suddenly you’re not so tired, huh?_ Zuko shook his head.

When they were gone, Zuko turned to Aang. “You traveled with him from Ba Sing Se, right?”

“Um. Yeah.”

“Did he tell you why he wanted to come all the way out here all of a sudden? And why he didn’t write to me beforehand?”

Aang shook his head. “All he told me was that he had some things he needed to do. It was nice, traveling with just your uncle for a change. You must have had a great time with him all those years you were chasing me.”

“Hah, I suppose so.” Though he certainly didn’t appreciate it as he should have at the time. They turned back to the egg. “Any ideas about what to do with this?”

““I saved a dragon egg once, but that was over a hundred years ago, and we didn’t hatch it either. Well, when an ostrich-horse lays an egg, they have to keep it warm, right? I bet a dragon egg needs to be kept _very_ warm. But I’m just guessing; I don’t know anything about dragons. Avatar Roku was the one who…that’s it!”

“What?”

“Avatar Roku had a dragon! Maybe he would be able to share some tips with us! I’ll be right back.”

Aang dropped into a lotus pose, his back straight, eyes shut, and took several deep, slow breaths. The arrow tattoo that stretched from his head down to his hands and feet softly lit up, signaling that he was in the Spirit World. Zuko watched him do this in the span of a few minutes. _I wish I could do that._ There were rumors that Iroh had been to the Spirit World himself; perhaps he could teach him someday. He would certainly like to get some answers from his ancestors.

The doors to his chamber burst open, and the servant girl who took his uncle earlier rushed in. Zuko held up his fist in preparation for a fight, but the girl prostrated herself, nervously eyeing Aang’s glowing tattoos, and began to speak in a breathless voice.

“Lord Zuko, your uncle, he’s left his bedchamber and nobody can find him.”

Zuko relaxed his arms and took a breath to calm his nerves. “He probably just wanted privacy and some fresh air.” His uncle was the strongest firebender alive; he could take care of himself if need be. “Have the guard keep an eye out for him just in case. And put a guard outside the door until the Avatar…is finished meditating.”

“Er, yes, my lord.” The girl bowed and departed, closing the large doors behind her. A few minutes later, Zuko heard the thumping of guards’ boots from the other side.

Facing Aang, he sat in a lotus pose and closed his eyes. He tried to match Aang’s breathing, but it was too quiet for him to hear. A few minutes passed before Zuko’s leg started to cramp up.

_The amount of discipline the Air Nomads must have had to do this for **days** at a time must have been immense. I wonder how long it took Aang to get good at this? Is this what he did for a hundred years in that iceberg? Ugh, I’m thinking too much. Deep breaths, clear your mind…………………and now I have to pee._

Giving up, Zuko uncrossed his legs and opened his eyes. Aang remained where he was, his tattoos softly glowing with spiritual energy, yet the real mysticism of the moment was in his features: the way he seemed perfectly relaxed and perfectly focused, his mouth frowning but his eyes content, his back straight but his shoulders loose. It was hard for him to admit out loud, but Zuko admired Aang in many ways. His excitement was downright infectious, and his seriousness could somber up an entire party. The only person Zuko admired more than Aang was Iroh. He hoped he could be someone people could admire like that someday.

For now, perhaps it was enough that he wasn’t trying to kidnap or kill Aang.


	4. Among the Spirits

Aang soared above the Fire Nation’s hip-and-gable rooftops and sleek modern roadways, his spiritual body a translucent beam of light held down by neither gravity nor time. Ever since mastering his Avatar State, he’d been able to control his spiritual experiences much more fluidly than his first several forays into the spirit world.

He recognized Iroh on the beach below. He was talking with someone covered in a hood. He didn’t seem to be in any sort of danger. Aang couldn’t tell who he was talking to or what they were saying, but Iroh seemed sad.

 His spirit flew away from them, from the Fire Nation capitol, to the island where the statue of Avatar Roku still stood, though the temple that housed it was now buried under a mountain of sediment.

Aang’s spirit passed through the rock and solidified magma until he was left floating in what remained of the chamber. The statue regarded him with its stern gaze for a few moments, until the spirit of Avatar Roku materialized from it in a flash of light.

“Hello, Aang,” Roku said.

Aang bowed his head to Roku. “I’m glad to see you, Roku.” He looked around. “Is, uh, Fang here?”

“Fang? Why, yes.”

There was a flash of light from below them. Before Aang could finish looking down, the dragon’s massive serpentine form engulfed them both. Aang shut his eyes instinctively, then opened them when he remembered that he wouldn’t be harmed. When he did, they were no longer inside the temple, but soaring high in the clouds on Fang’s back. The dragon sighed beneath them as he carried them across the sky.

“Fang and I were never far apart,” Roku said, “in life or in death.”

“Wow,” Aang said. Flying was not a foreign experience for him—all his life, he’d flown in the clouds on his glider or on Appa’s back. He’d learn to fly not long after he learned to walk. But Fang’s flight felt very different from Appa’s. Where Appa flew in a straight, steady line from Point A to Point B, Fang twisted and undulated through the sky like a snake. Roku held the reins attached to Fang’s horns with such apparent ease that Aang wasn’t sure if he was actually steering the dragon or just using the reins to keep himself from falling.

“What was it you wanted to talk about, Aang?”

“Oh, yeah.” He’d nearly forgotten. “We found a dragon egg, Roku.”

Fang growled at that, and although Aang couldn’t be sure, he seemed to sound happy.

“But the thing is,” he continued, “we don’t know how to care for it, or what to do when it hatches. I was hoping you might be able to give me some advice on that.”

“Where is the egg now?”

“In the Fire Lord’s chambers.”

Roku stroked his beard in deep thought. “That is not good, Aang. The egg must be kept at a consistent, high temperature at all times. Dragons can incubate an egg with their natural body heat, but humans will need to tend it with constant firebending.”

The egg hadn’t been placed near a dragon or firebending since Iroh took it from the Sun Warriors’ village. “It hasn’t been heated like that for days!”

“You have only been outside of your body for a few seconds, but you will need to tend to it immediately upon your return. It may yet still live, but each day without the necessary warmth will threaten the hatchling.”

Great. They only just got the egg and already they were endangering the dragon’s life. “What about after it hatches? Like, what does it eat, how do you train it to fly, and…”

“They will learn to fly on their own provided they are given the space to learn. You must not keep the dragon indoors, out of the sunlight. Remember, they are not pets to be trained, but intelligent, dignified creatures who will only let one they deem worthy to ride on their backs. As for diet, well…”

From far away, Aang felt his stomach go woozy. “They’re carnivores, aren’t they?”

“Yes. Sheep-deer and chicken-bulls are a favorite. Dragon mouths are not designed for eating vegetables, I’m afraid, though Fang had an unusual taste for watermelons.”

Aang sighed. “That’s okay. Carnivores gotta eat too. I’ll just…leave the feeding to Zuko.” He looked down on the ocean. “I have one other question.”

“Yes?”

“Do you know why Sozin started hunting the dragons in the first place?”

Fang rumbled menacingly; he could feel the dragon’s muscles tense beneath his legs. Roku sighed, a distant look in his eyes. Aang wondered how powerful a spirit’s regrets must be to persist over a century after dying.

“Sozin did not begin to hunt the dragons until after my death. I suspect that event may have played a part in why. He was unwell, Aang, near the end. Dragons were revered among my people. It was believed that one who had achieved ultimate spiritual wisdom and oneness with nature was reborn as a dragon for their final lifetime, which is why they were so rare. They were also believed to be immortal, but when Sozin watched Fang die with me, that proved our belief wrong. He coveted the dragons’ power. So, he declared himself a Dragon and established the title for anyone else who killed one. He probably believed himself to be a dragon in truth until his death.” Roku shook his head. “That is my guess.”

Aang listened to the sad story, knowing that Roku lamented the loss of his former best friend. He wanted to say something comforting or funny—the instinct to help others feel better always arose in him during moments like these, but what could he possibly say to a spirit?

Roku was his most recent past life. So, he said what he thought he’d like to hear in Roku’s place:

“Me and Zuko are gonna bring back what Sozin took away. We already ended the War. We’ll bring back the dragons—and the airbenders. I don’t know how yet, but I promise we will. And maybe…maybe Sozin’s next life is out there, with his spirit trying to redeem itself.” He grinned. “Maybe you and he are still friends. Who knows?”

It was rare for Roku to appear shocked, but for a brief moment, his eyes were wide open, and although it was hard to tell in the shifting light of the Spirit World, they seemed teary. Roku faced the course in front of them. “I know you will, Aang. If anyone can restore balance to the world, it is you. And…I hope you are right. Goodbye, Aang, until next time.”

Fang twisted into a spiral and they lurched ninety degrees, straight down into the Fire Lord’s palace. They phased through the roof and several rooms. Aang saw his physical body for a brief second before Fang drove his spirit through, leaving him whole once more.


	5. Fathers

The humid night air might have agreed with the Fire Nation, but Iroh’s beard fizzled into a mess of tangles and knots within moments of leaving the palace. He had gotten used to the dry heat of the Earth Kingdom. He thought longingly of his tea shop in Ba Sing Se, of the cool shade of the city walls during the mornings and late afternoons, and his frequent and favorite customers. He wondered where they would go once they saw the windows of the Jasmine Dragon boarded up and the sign on the front door.

A cool breeze filtered through the streets of the capitol city, ruffling his tunic. For what might have been the dozenth time, had he kept track, he reached to feel at the objects concealed in his inner pockets. Paranoid, perhaps, but what he kept there was far too important to lose.

At the mouth of an alleyway, he spotted a man seated on the ground, a horned helmet placed upside-down in his lap. A spear lay beside him, its tip sharp and glistening in the moonlight. The man’s head hung low and his gaze didn’t meet Iroh’s.

“Spare some change for a veteran?” The man said.

Iroh eyes the spear. “You’ve taken very good care of that weapon.”

“It kept me alive, for whatever that’s worth, so I figure I’d do the same for it. It’s about all I have left in the world, now.”

“Mmm. Let me see what I have.”

He fished out a handful of gold coins Zuko had foisted upon him. The young Fire Lord remembered their days of poverty well, and he went to great lengths to make sure they were never relived by either of them, though Iroh remembered those days quite differently. Iroh dropped the coins back into his wallet, then dropped the entire wallet into the man’s helmet.

The man’s mouth dropped slightly. He finally turned his gaze up to Iroh. “Thank…you…” Iroh saw a spark of recognition in the man’s eyes, a spark that quickly flared into white-hot anger. “ _You!_ ”

The man was on his feet in an instant, the helmet clattering away and tossing coins to the ground. Iroh looked down his nose at the point of the spear in his face, blinking twice. “Do I know you?” He asked calmly.

“No, I guess you wouldn’t. But I know you very well, Dragon of the West.”

Iroh took a deep breath, then stepped to the side as the man lunged with his spear. The blade jabbed inches from his face, but he kept his focus on the man’s arms. “I’m afraid,” he said, ducking another blow, “you have me at a disadvantage, friend.” The man swiped downward and Iroh ducked to the side, stepping onto the blade to pin it to the ground. The man stared at him, wide-eyed, clearly not expecting such moves from an old man. People rarely ever did.

“You know me,” Iroh continued as the man struggled to pull up his spear, “but I don’t know who you are. Or why you’re trying to kill me, I’m afraid.”

The man roared in frustration, dropping his spear and crouching into a stance. Iroh spun, dodging the fireball the veteran threw at him, but as he did so, he felt something fall out of his pockets.

His White Lotus tile, as well as several sealed scrolls, dropped out of his tunic and rolled onto the ground. The veteran took no notice of them as he continued his firebending, aiming at Iroh’s head with a reckless spinning kick that tossed embers all around and threatened to burn the scrolls.

The man launched another fiery kick. This time, Iroh grabbed his foot midair, stopping the kick and smothering the fire. He squeezed a bit harder than he meant to and the man yelped, falling onto his back as he tried to pull away.

Iroh let go of the man’s foot and turned to pick up the scrolls. The White Lotus tile was lost among the scattered gold coins, and it was difficult to tell it apart with only the light of the moon, but even if it was lost for good, he would be fine. The scrolls were far more important. He dusted them off and slid them back into his pocket; thankfully, they were undamaged.

He turned back to the veteran, who lay nursing his foot. “Just kill me,” the man said.

Iroh picked up the spear and pointed the handle to the man, who looked up, confused. “This is sturdy,” Iroh said. “You can probably use it as a walking stick until your foot heals.”

The man slapped the spear away, but Iroh held onto it and used it to balance himself as he crouched. Tears ran down the veteran’s face.

“Just take it,” he said, voice cracking. “Like you took my son.”

It was as though Toph herself launched a boulder into his gut. He fell back on his seat, his mind spinning with memories of a youthful face he could never, ever forget. “Ba Sing Se?” He asked.

The veteran nodded. “I was there, at the Six-Hundred Day Siege. Me and Bi Ming.”

“Your son.”

The man nodded again. “I know why you quit the siege. I know you lost your son, too. But that just makes it worse!”

A stab of pain pierced his spirit, but he allowed no outward sign to show.

“You quit! Your son, my son, they both died for you—gladly died!—them, and so many others, men and women, for that siege, and then you just…quit. And then you did it again with the Hundred Year War! All the people who threw down their lives for the Fire Nation, for _you,_ and it means absolutely nothing.”

“That isn’t true.”

“I don’t like war any more than you do, and Bi Ming hated every moment at Ba Sing Se, but he was proud to be serving under the Dragon of the West, the great General Iroh. We all were. Better to keep the War going a thousand years than to disgrace all their sacrifices by just—leaving.”

Iroh sighed, all the energy gone from him, and he sat down next to the man. “You’re right about one thing. Their deaths _were_ a disgrace. But not in the way that you think.

“When my son died, I realized something. My son, Lu Ten, who dreamed of being the Fire Lord who ended the Hundred Year War, died in a pointless battle, which was part of a pointless siege, in a pointless war, waged by a pointless man. The War was a lot like that siege, you see. I drove at the walls of Ba Sing Se with all the might of the Fire Nation behind me. Just like in the War, I was determined to achieve victory no matter how long it took. Nevermind that I made absolutely no progress in my efforts. Nevermind that, even if I had broken through, the fighting simply would have continued on and on for years more. All I saw was the battle, and nothing else. No _one_ else.

“There is no point or sense in war. Both of our sons realized that, and yet it was they, not their soldier fathers, who died for that pointless senselessness. _That_ is the disgrace. Their deaths did not disgrace the Fire Nation—the Fire Nation disgraced them, by sending them to die for something so beneath them all. I knew that I would be disgracing Lu Ten, and Bi Ming, and every other son and daughter of the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom and the Air Nomads and the Water Tribes, if I continued that pointless war. War is the ultimate disgrace. It is an affront to nature and the spirit of humanity itself. How many good men and women did we waste? How long will it take for the world to heal in the many places we have scarred it?”

He pointed to the Fire Nation palace. “The last Airbender is in that palace right now. That one child has greater claim to the War than all the other nations combined. Did he devote his life to fighting a war that took his entire culture? No! He lived guided by the hope of _peace._ He had the opportunity to kill my brother—the opportunity and, by many counts, the justification! But he didn’t. Because killing him would be the true disgrace—perpetuating a conflict that has torn apart so many families, stolen so many children from their fathers, a conflict that the spirits of the living and the dead all beg to stop, would be the greatest disgrace of all.”

He didn’t realize he’d been crying, but when he stopped talking, he felt his own tears touch the corners of his mouth. The veteran looked like a man who had just seen a dragon bare its fangs in a passionate display of fire.

“That was the hardest lesson I ever learned,” Iroh said. “But Lu Ten? And Bi Ming? They knew from the start. Just like the Avatar and my nephew. They knew, and they tried to teach us. If only we had listened.”

He grabbed the man’s tunic and held him close. They sat there in the street, crying on eachother’s shoulders.

“If only we had listened.”

Later, when their eyes were drier and their emotions calmer, the two picked up all of the scattered coins in the street. The veteran, who Iroh learned was called Bi Nang, fished a coin out of the bag and handed it to Iroh. “I think this is yours,” he said.

Iroh took his White Lotus tile with a grin. “This tile has given me quite a bit of luck over the years,” he said. “Hopefully, it will bring others luck as well.”

Bi Nang took his spear in one hand and stared at the blade. “It’s warped,” he said. Sure enough, the blade had a slight bend where Iroh had stepped on it. He must have been channeling some fire into his feet at the time because the metal looked softer than before. “My apologies,” he said.

Bi Nang shook his head. “Like your tile, this spear has brought me a lot of luck over the years. Most of it bad, to be honest.” He let go of the shaft and the spear clattered to the ground. “I don’t think it will be of much use to me anymore.”

Iroh nodded. “Visit the palace any time, friend. I’m sure my nephew will welcome you with open arms. Perhaps he will give you a job.”

“I might, I might. What about you? Why are you out here so late anyway?”

Iroh looked to the road ahead. “There’s someone very important that I’m hoping to see. Hopefully, that meeting will go as well as ours.” He dipped a slight bow. “Farewell.”

Bi Nang bowed with deference usually shown for the Fire Lord. Iroh turned back to the road and continued onward.

After a few minutes had passed, he looked over his shoulder to see if Bi Nang had gone. Seeing no one, he finally allowed himself to groan at the immense pain building up in his side, stopping for just a moment to take a deep breath. Straightening himself, he pressed forward.


	6. Sunrise

Aang’s tattoos stopped glowing just a split second before he shot up and launched a stream of fire directly at the egg.

Zuko, who had _not_ been about to fall asleep, flailed his arms as he tipped over backward. He caught himself and spun to his feet. “Are you crazy?!”

“The egg needs fire,” Aang said, raising his voice over the hum of the flame jet emitting from his fist. “I was right; dragon eggs need a _lot_ of heat.”

Zuko looked at the egg. It shimmered in the shifting orange and yellow light of Aang’s firebending, but it appeared unharmed even as the cushion it lay on dissolved into embers. The more he looked at it, the more its bright colors seemed to exude a newfound vitality within the flames.

“I could use a little help,” Aang said. Firebending was the last element he had learned, and although he was more than good enough in a fight, he had yet to truly master the technique. Zuko took a deep breath, then channeled it through his lungs, stomach, arms, and out of his hands as a jet of flame. His fire stream merged with Aang’s into one scorching, continuous burst. The egg managed to remain unharmed, seemingly even untouched by the fire.

Aang started panting, his head covered in sweat. His fire stream sputtered in tandem with the uneven breaths, and his stance faltered a fraction of an inch.

“I’ll take over,” Zuko said. “You’ll burn out if you keep up like this.”

Too winded to answer, Aang simply nodded and dropped his arms. The fire that blasted the egg only came from Zuko, now. Outside the window, the sky lit up with the incoming sunrise. Zuko would be able to draw some power from it when the light made it through.

“It’s so hot,” Aang said. His airbender robes were soaked through with sweat. The air in the royal chamber shimmered from the heat. “How can you handle this?”

“Discipline and practice, I guess. Did Roku happen to say how long we need to keep this up?”

Aang blinked. “Um…”

The door to his chamber flew open, causing Zuko to interrupt the jet of fire. A guard stepped in, bowed.

“Fire Lord, your uncle collapsed in the street. He’s been brought to the palace’s medical ward.”

“What?!”

Aang’s eyes went wide with concern. “Go to him,” he said. “I’ll watch after the egg.”

“But…the heat…”

Aang turned to the egg. “I may not have the practice, but the previous Avatars do.” Aang’s eyes and tattoos briefly glowed with a bright, spiritual light as he drew upon the experience of dozens and dozens of past lifetimes. His back straightened and he took a deep, steady breath, the force of the heat no longer having any apparent effect. He anchored his stance and blasted a jet of fire with greater size and intensity than the one they both had produced combined, with all the ease of a master who had been training for decades. “Go.”

Zuko ran out of the chamber with the guard. He could feel the heat from Aang’s firebending on the back of his neck even from way down the hall.


	7. Pai Sho

The man in the bed was Iroh, but Zuko had never seen him before. Iroh always had the vitality and presence of an energetic child wrapped in an old man’s body. “Old” was not a word he would have ever used to describe his uncle, not even when he was sick or in prison. Yet, here, asleep in the bed with soft white linens and the smell of healing incense and oils wafting through the hospital, for the first time in Zuko’s life, Iroh looked old.

“Someone from the city found him and carried him here,” the guard said.

“Was he attacked?” Zuko didn’t take his eyes off the bed.

“The nurse found no signs of a struggle on his body.”

“Poison, then?”

“We—”

“It’s not poison.”

Iroh’s eyes popped open, and his age seemed to vanish as he smiled at them. “I just got really tired and fell asleep on the road.”

The guard bowed and left the room. Zuko approached his uncle’s bedside. “You’ve had a long journey, Uncle. You need to rest…”

“You are right. I have had a very long journey. Long and wonderful.” Iroh straightened up in his bed.

“I’ll get you some tea,” Zuko said. “I’ve been practicing…”

“Zuko.”

“I’ve already sent for the best healers in the Fire Nation. I’ll see if Katara can come here too…it’s a long way from the South Pole, but if Appa can make a nonstop trip…”

“Zuko.”

“I’ll also get you a palanquin to take you where you need to go from now on. You shouldn’t have to walk anyway. This’ll be safer for you too…”

“Prince Zuko!”

Whatever he was going to say next died on his lips. “You haven’t called me ‘Prince’ in years.”

“I suppose I always think of you as a prince. But you are not. You are the leader of a nation. And as a leader, you _must_ confront reality, rather than avoiding your problems.”

Pressure began to build behind Zuko’s eyes. “Why did you go out last night?”

Iroh sighed. “I needed to speak to someone. Settle a few old scores, so to speak. I’m glad I did. Now I can face what’s next with one less regret.”

“You just wore yourself out coming from Ba Sing Se, Uncle. Stop talking like you’re…you know…”

“Dying?” Iroh finished, the sad smile still on his lips. “Confront your problems.”

The tears started then. “The only problem here is that you’re blowing this out of proportion. We’ll get you back on your feet and you’ll be all right. That’s all it is.”

Iroh reached out and grabbed Zuko’s hand in his. His grip was as firm as ever. “My work here in the physical realm is done, Zuko. It’s time for me to move on. The world will not wait, you know.”

“As far as I’m concerned, the world owes you to wait.”

Iroh chuckled at that, as though it were a joke.

“What about your tea shop? What about the dragon egg? What about me?”

“The tea shop is taken care of,” Iroh said. “At least, I believe it is. Time will tell. And the dragon egg is yours to tend to and hatch. As for you…you have become the greatest Fire Lord this world has seen in generations. At your young age, you have accomplished so much more in the name of peace and good than anyone I have ever known, including myself. You are the greatest accomplishment and honor in my life. I have nothing more to teach you, Fire Lord Zuko.” He reached into his tunic and fumbled around the pockets until he pulled out a small square board that unfolded on itself. “Except, perhaps, how to gracefully lose to an old man at Pai Sho.”

Despite the sadness that threatened to overwhelm him any moment, Zuko laughed. “I can’t believe you brought that all the way from Ba Sing Se.”

“Of course! I never leave home without it.”

Iroh set the board up in his lap, connecting the twelve sections together. It was a good thing his bed was large, since the board needed space to accommodate the 18x18 grid. When it was all set up, a bit awkwardly in the bed but manageable, he pulled a pouch of game tiles out of his pocket.

“So,” Iroh said as he began setting up pieces, “how is the egg?”

“It’s fine,” Zuko said absentmindedly. “We learned that it needs constant firebending in order to—oh, no!”

He jumped up, knocking some of the tiles onto the bedsheets as he leaped to the floor. “Sorry!” he called out to his uncle as he ran out of the room and back to his chamber.

Like before, he felt the intense heat in the hall well before reaching his room. The air shimmered with heat, and he could hear the rush of fire Aang pointed at the egg. When he entered, Aang glanced his way, then his arm flapped to the side and he collapsed. Zuko caught him in his arms before he hit the ground, marveling at how light the airbender felt. He was drenched in sweat, as wet as if he just climbed out of a pond.

“I’m sorry,” Aang groaned. “I went as long as I could…”

The egg basked in its own luster even as everything around it was scorched black. The metal floor beneath it had a bright orange sheen as though it were in a forge rather than a bedroom.

“You did great,” Zuko said. “Let’s get you somewhere cooler.”

He draped Aang’s arm over his own shoulder and helped walk him out of the makeshift boiler room. A guard moved to help him, but Zuko waved him away with his free hand.

“Summon the Fire Sages to come and take care of this egg. And send a letter to Katara of the Water Tribe. Ask her to come as quickly as possible.”


	8. Family

After bidding farewell to Bi Nang, Iroh continued down the road, humming softly. The meeting with the veteran had been draining, physically and emotionally, and he felt an intense desire to rest. But he still had things to do.

“ _Leaves on the vine…falling so slow…”_

He could hear the waves gently batting against the shores of the island city, and soon his sandals crunched on sand instead of cobblestone. The beach was lit with torches set up along the perimeter, as well as the full moon shining brightly in the cloudless night. He looked at the moon for a moment and said a quick prayer of thanks to the brave spirit residing there, a habit he got into after the battle at the Northern Water Tribe all those years ago.

“They say talking to yourself is a sign of senility.”

The familiar voice came from behind him. He didn’t turn. “Good thing I’m not talking to myself, then. But we all need a supportive voice now and again, even if it’s our own.”

The newcomer moved to stand next to him. To strangers observing them, they would only see a large old man and a hooded figure conversing on a moonlit beach.

“Thank you for coming,” Iroh said. “Truthfully, I wasn’t sure if you would.”

“And miss the chance to say hello to my dear old uncle?”

Azula removed her hood. Her eyes reflected the firelight from a nearby torch as she smiled. Her hair had grown back evenly and some of the signs of distress had left her face in the years since her defeat, but the same sharp gaze and conniving air surrounded her even now. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said. “It’s not every day you get such a perfect opportunity to take your enemy out, after all.”

Iroh lifted his arms. “I’m not your enemy tonight, Azula. But if you insist on ‘taking me out,’ you should know that soon, you won’t have to.”

She lifted an eyebrow, then laughed. “So old age finally caught up to you, huh? I half expected you to go out choking on some tea first. Oh, well.” She shrugged. “I guess there’s no reason to blow my cover in a firefight, plus, I _am_ curious why you asked me to come here. I followed you for a while, you know.”

“Yes, I know.” She had likely been making sure it wasn’t an ambush. “I called you here because I wanted to talk to my niece, one last time.”

She scoffed. “A bit late for tea and catching up, don’t you think?”

Iroh sat on the sand, then motioned for Azula to join him. After a few moments of consideration, she rolled her eyes and did the same.

“I have been a terrible uncle,” Iroh said.

Azula, clearly not expecting him to say that, was briefly taken aback.

“When Lu Ten died,” Iroh continued, “I came home and immediately attached to Zuko. I suppose it was a way for me to temper my grief. He became like a second son to me. But in the process, I left you to yourself…and your father. Then I joined Zuko in his banishment, leaving you to bear an immense weight all by yourself.”

“Yes, well.” Azula glanced away and brushed a lock of hair away from her face. “I did pretty well for myself.”

“Yes. I knew you would. You were always so strong, so clever. That is why I decided to leave; because I knew that if anyone could handle the stress of living with my brother, it was you. Zuko did not possess that kind of strength, not back then.”

“You assume Father treated me badly. I’ll have you know he was quite pleasant with me…most days, at least.”

“He treated you like a princess. His heir. But not like a daughter. And you had to earn that treatment through constant, ceaseless perfectionism, because nothing less was good enough for him, was it?”

She didn’t answer. So Iroh went on.

“I cannot forgive him for what he did to you and your brother. But while I may have helped Zuko overcome his abuses, in turn I overlooked yours. And you have suffered for it.” He bowed his head in shame. “For that, I am sorry.”

Azula let out a loud _tsk_ and stood, brushing the sand off her clothes. “Even if I felt that way—and, really, Uncle, I _don’t_ care as much as you think—it’s too late to do anything about it now. Apologies are worthless.”

Iroh stood. “Perhaps. But I did not want to go into the next life without having given you one, regardless. I also want to give you these.” He reached into his tunic and handed her the scrolls he’d brought with him.

Azula opened one and read the first few lines. “Wait. This is—?”

“Yes,” Iroh said. “You may do with them as you see fit. But I hope they will bring you some peace and goodness, whatever you decide.”

Azula stared at the scrolls for a long moment. Iroh feared she would set them ablaze then and there, but eventually she rolled them up and stashed them in her cloak. “I have a question for you, Uncle, and I want you to answer me honestly.”

“Of course.”

“Those years you traveled with Zuko, looking for the Avatar. Was there ever a time you wanted to just give up and come home? I mean, this _is_ Zuko we’re talking about.”

“Ahh. I actually enjoyed traveling the world, even though it was for what I believed to be a lost cause. But if I’m being honest…I cannot say the thought of tossing Zuko overboard did not occur to me once or twice. He had a _terrible_ attitude.”

Azula threw back her head and laughed. “Can you imagine? He’d be brooding for _years_ afterward!”

“Brooding and going on about his honor,” Iroh said with a wink. Azula laughed harder after that, and he allowed himself to join in. Even Zuko might appreciate a little humbling humor if he were there.

When they were finished, Iroh bowed and bid his niece farewell. Azula donned her hood but didn’t turn away; she simply watched him as he left.

He felt the exhaustion hit him immediately after returning to the cobblestone streets. Looking ahead, the palace suddenly seemed much farther away than he expected. His breath became heavier with each step he walked. A stabbing pain in his stomach, like being struck by lightning made of metal, doubled him over onto the empty street, the stones in the road feeling hot against his face. He managed one last glimpse of the moon before blacking out.

* * *

Katara’s water-coated hands glided over Iroh’s stomach and chest, lingering for a second over his heart. The water glowed with healing properties no other bender could ever hope to match, including Aang. Zuko instinctively touched the scar on his face; not even the most skilled waterbending healer could cure a wound so old and set, not without help from the spirits themselves. He knew. Katara had tried.

When she was done examining Iroh, she took a breath, stretched, and the water flowed from her hands and into a nearby basin. She turned to him and shook her head.

“There’s too much,” Katara said. “It’s in his stomach, his gut, his chest…there’s nothing I can do but make him comfortable. I’m sorry.”

Zuko turned away. He’d summoned practitioners from every nation and every discipline; healers, alchemists, Reiki artists, herbalists, even psychics. Every single one gave him the same answer.

“There has to be _something,_ ” he said. “What about the spirit water from the North Pole?”

“I think that would only prolong the inevitable,” Katara said. “I’ve seen this sickness enough times by now to know that even if it goes away, it just comes back later. He’s lucky he’s not in any pain…”

“This isn’t what I’d call luck!”

Iroh locked his patient gaze on Zuko, and he immediately felt ashamed. Of course, Katara would never tell him there was no hope if there was. But they had been in hopeless situations far too many times for him to just give up.

“You still have some time together,” she said. “Time you can enjoy and use to get your affairs in order. A lot of people don’t get that.” She touched her mother’s necklace for a moment. “It’s more valuable than you think.”

For most of his life, Zuko had thought his own mother was dead. He had been wrong, and when he learned that simple fact, he felt like the luckiest human alive. Perhaps he was. He would never ask if Katara agreed.

“Can we have the room?” He asked finally.

Aang and Katara stepped out and closed the door behind them. Zuko ran his hand over his face, exhausted, and he unfastened his crown from the knot in his hair. He set it aside and sat at the foot of Iroh’s bed.

“You’re wrong about me, Uncle. I’m not ready. I can’t do this without you.”

Iroh shuffled under his sheets. “Listen to me. Katara is right—you and I are far more fortunate than many. But there is nothing that can make the passing of a loved one easy. You are sad right now; be sad. You will be sad later, and perhaps angry, and fearful. Be all those things. Your emotions will hit you in waves. Let your them wash over you, but do not let yourself drown in them. Do not dwell on regrets or things unsaid or time unused.” Iroh reached for the crown and held it in his hands. “This was to be mine. Had things gone differently, perhaps it would have been. Perhaps I could have ended the War much earlier and saved many more lives. Perhaps I could have even kept our family together. I do not regret how things turned out, but I often wonder: if I had not let my grief break me all those years ago, perhaps I could have spared you much grief in return.” He handed the crown back to Zuko. “Thoughts like these will come to you your whole life, Zuko. Let them come, and then let them go.”

“I’m sorry about what happened to Cousin Lu Ten,” Zuko said. “I know I could never replace him. But you’ve been more of a father to me than—than anyone. You’re the only family I have.”

“Ahh, but that is also untrue. You have family waiting right outside that door. And don’t give up hope on Azula and my brother—yes, they are difficult, but so was I, once upon a time.”

“I can’t imagine you being like Ozai or Azula even for a second, Uncle.”

“No? There’s a reason they put me in charge of the siege of Ba Sing Se. Ozai put up a strong front, but I always had a better mind for war.” Iroh winked. “And I seem to recall a certain prince whom many believed to be well beyond hope himself. One who has made his uncle extremely proud. And who needs to return to his royal duties.”

“I’m not leaving you here.”

“The affairs of state will not cease for one man, Zuko. And you’ll need to be there when the dragon egg hatches, if you want to bond with it.”

Zuko looked uncertainly out the window, at the pleasant view of the garden. Turtle-duck chicks followed their mother in a small pond. “Are you sure?”

Iroh waved the question away. “Go. Oh, and one more thing: there is a man named Bi Nang begging in the streets of the Capitol. He could use a helping hand.”

Zuko nodded. “I’ll find him, then. I’ll come by to see you soon, Uncle.” He moved to exit, then stopped at the door. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Nephew.”

Zuko left the room to greet his family on the other side.


	9. Lord of Fire

“But should there _really_ be a sidewalk for…”

“I know funds are low, but I really think there’s money in the coffers for this…”

“I keep getting letters from a cabbage merchant about…”

Normally, Zuko would be at attention, even at these meetings. His royal cabinet of advisors, secretaries, city planners, scientists, and diplomats all talked amongst themselves, a voice occasionally rising in the makings of a debate before quieting down in the Fire Lord’s presence. Today, however, he could not manage to hold a single thought in place. It was like his ability to focus had simply evaporated. Unable to take any more of the pointless talking, he stood and crossed the room to his exit.

“Continue without me,” he said.

Someone sputtered a protest, but Zuko slammed the door to cut them off. He walked along the palace corridors, avoiding interaction with visitors or even his own servants, until he came to a large room originally meant for entertaining royal guests. Within, two of the five Fire Sages kept a wave of fire bending directed at the dragon egg. The Sages took turns, with two or three watching the egg while the others rested and rehydrated. The two there now both panted with exhaustion, the sweat on their bodies fading into steam as it got closer to their hands.

Aang had not said how long the incubation period would take, nor did it matter if he had, since they didn’t know how long the dragons had the egg before giving it to Iroh. They didn’t even know for sure if the dragon was still alive—perhaps it had gone too long without fire. Perhaps it would never hatch.

“Let me take care of it,” he said. The Sages, happy for an early break, dropped their arms and left to cool off. Zuko planted his feet, took a deep breath, and launched a jet of fire at the egg.

For the past few days, this had become his relaxation. The intense heat exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm him at the end of each session helped him sleep at night. He visited Iroh daily, talking with him about their adventures together, or playing pai sho, or just sitting together in eachother’s company. Zuko had finally won a round of pai sho, though he suspected Iroh let him win. Iroh also passed on bits and pieces of life advice: “Go slow, do not rush through your decisions,” “Watch your money, but don’t let the lack of it determine your worth,” “Watch out for those long-haired girls,” and so on. Zuko would always smile and assure him everything would be fine.

Now if only he could assure himself. Each day, a little more of the color in Iroh’s face vanished. Even his most minuscule movements—laying down a pai sho tile, rolling onto his side, lifting a cup of tea—were slow, shaky and determined. He had to eat with a spoon because his fingers no longer possessed the dexterity needed for chopsticks, and when he started having difficulty swallowing solid food, most of it had to be crushed or liquidated. But he never complained or stopped smiling, not even when he had to choke down what was essentially food paste for babies. It wasn’t right. A man that good who lived that long should _at least_ be able to eat whatever he wanted.

Zuko’s fire stream sputtered as his focus faltered. He took another deep breath and righted his stance, focusing his energy in through the lungs and out his arm. The egg seemed to take the fire in as if it was hungry for the heat. That was good, he supposed; he doubted that would be the case if the dragon wasn’t alive.

The three Fire Sages came for their shift after about a half-hour and took over for Zuko. Having nothing to do except return to his meetings, he went to his room, removed his headpiece and robes, and slipped on a plain cloak. He left the palace through a side exit and made for the maximum-security prison on the other side of the island.

His feet carried him automatically. He wasn’t sure why he felt he needed to go there, of all places, but it felt right. The tower was one of the most secure prisons in the Fire Nation, rivaled only by the one at the Boiling Rock. Prisoners here were kept in solitude, never let out of their cells. It had been a far worse place when his father was Fire Lord.

He revealed himself to the patrol, who allowed him to go inside. He climbed to the top of the tower, rehearsing what he would say, still wondering why he was even here in the first place. Each cell door in the dusty corridor looked the same, but he knew by instinct which one held his father. He stood in front of it for a moment. He had come too far to turn back now.

He opened the door.

Sunlight streamed in through the one window in the cell, a small, barred hole in the wall that nobody could fit through, even a child. Ozai sat beneath it, reading a book in the light, a small cup of tea sitting beside him, its steam long gone. His hair was neatly brushed and tied back in a knot, as though he were still royalty; one of Zuko’s reforms had been allowing the prisoners some basic hygiene, and apparently, Ozai had taken advantage of it. A few gray hairs showed at his temples, and his pointed features had sagged somewhat since Zuko had last seen him, but the man sat in as dignified a manner as one could in his situation, looking up as if he had summoned Zuko to his throne room.

“Ahh, the Fire Lord graces me with his presence,” Ozai said sarcastically. “I’d offer you some tea, but the selection here is rather limited, I’m afraid.”

Zuko closed his eyes for a moment, focusing his heart to slow its beating before Ozai noticed. “I wanted to let you know that Uncle Iroh is on his…on his deathbed. Since you’re his brother, I felt you should be told. If you want to attend the funeral, I’ll have arrangements made to escort you.”

Ozai sat very still, for a moment, not even his eyes moving.

“Well?” Zuko said. “Do you have anything to say?”

“So, time has finally come to claim dear old Iroh, huh? A shame. Not that he’s dying, I mean; a shame that he isn’t dying by the traitor’s execution he deserves.”

Unable to contain his anger any longer, Zuko approached the cell and grabbed the bars. They sizzled in his white-hot grip. “How is it,” he said, his voice heavy, as though he had been running for hours, “that the two of you are brothers, born to the same parents, had the same childhood, and yet became such completely different people? What is so broken in you? You’re not even human, do you realize that? What am I saying—of course you don’t. Whatever’s broken in you, I’m just lucky he didn’t let you break it in me, too.”

Ozai picked up the cup of tea and took a sip, grimaced, then put the cup back down. “You assume that _I’m_ the one who’s broken. Your uncle and I were never particularly close, but I could at least respect his tactical genius, even if it did come with a bleeding heart. That is, until his son died, and he lost everything a Fire Lord—no, everything a _man_ needs to earn respect. Gone was his taste for battle, a Fire Lord heir in a state of war! Gone was his sense of dignity, of self-respect, of willpower—he would let anyone walk over him like they were talking to trash, and he would smile and nod and agree with them and make them a pot of tea! What universe do you live in where _that_ is how a man should behave, let alone a head of state? Look at you; I insult your beloved uncle in one sentence, and you turn into a quivering child. But _I’m_ the one who’s broken? Ha!” Ozai spit in Zuko’s direction. “No, all that’s broken in me is my firebending, and you have the Avatar to thank for that. Your uncle did teach me one important lesson, though: not to let something so insignificant as the loss of a simpering child jeopardize the Fire Nation’s entire future and the reputation of the greatest bloodline the world has ever known. Banishing you was how I proved my superiority to him, that I could handle the loss of a son without breaking down into nothing, unlike him. So, yes, I suppose I owe him that much. He inspired me to get rid of you.”

Zuko loosened his grip on the bars, which burned bright red where his palms had squeezed. He refused to allow the immense pain in his hands show in front of Ozai.

_I’m sorry, Uncle, but you’re wrong about him. Maybe not Azula, but definitely him._

“I’ve delivered the message,” Zuko said in a frightening neutral tone. “My business here is done.”

He turned and left the cell, only allowing himself to nurse his searing hands once the door was shut and he was several steps away. He told himself that the burns were the reason why tears ran down his face.

* * *

 Katara healed his hands when he returned to the palace. She didn’t ask how they got burned, or why Zuko was dressed in a cloak. She simply retrieved a washing basin and had him place his hands in the water. The stinging intensified for a moment before her waterbending wrapped his hands in a cool, soothing bath. After a few minutes of this, he removed his hands, which were now free of any sign they had ever been damaged.

“You’ve gotten a lot better at that,” he said. When he had burned Toph’s feet by accident, years ago, it had taken Katara much longer to heal them.

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” she replied.

It made sense. After a hundred years of war, many people had burn wounds that they would seek out an expert healer to remove. But some were beyond the point of healing.

Aang watched the process with childlike fascination, though his attention was geared more to Katara herself than her hands. “No matter how many times I watch Katara heal someone, it’s always so…pretty. I wish I could do that.”

“You’re the Avatar,” Zuko said. “You can do anything.”

Aang shook his head. “I’ve tried, but I just can’t get the hang of it. And I’m good at waterbending! My next life will be a waterbender; maybe they’ll know how to heal. I can’t figure out metalbending either. Hey, where did you go, anyway?”

Katara jabbed Aang in the side with an elbow. With a yelp, he looked to her, then to Zuko. “Oh. Okay. Private. Sorry.”

Footsteps came running down the hall outside. Moments after Zuko heard them, Shyu barged into the room, placing his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

“Fire Lord…hah…come quickly. The egg…hah…”

Zuko stood. “Is it hatching?”

Shyu shook his head. “Something’s wrong. We need you to—“

Zuko was already out the door, running down the hall. When he reached the chamber where the sages kept the egg alight, they all stopped their fire bending at once and stepped aside respectfully.

“Why are you stopping?” He asked, but the egg answered his question.

Its former iridescence was gone, replaced by a black, sooty matte like it had rolled in an old fireplace. Had they given it too much fire?

“When did this happen?”

“We just noticed it a few minutes ago,” one of the sages said. “But we don’t know when it happened, exactly. We’ve been focused on our firebending.”

The dragons had entrusted the egg, their progeny, to Iroh; and Iroh, in turn, had entrusted it to him. His chance to redeem some small piece of his nation was withering away in his arms while the person he loved most in the world withered away in a hospital bed, and there was nothing he could do about either one of them.

“Roku said it needed fire,” he said, half to himself. “We gave it fire. Why is it not working? What am I doing wrong?!”

He thought of his uncle, his screwed-up family, how far he had come and how far he’d have to go, and the fact he’d have to go alone, and all his anger and sadness and frustration went deep into his lungs and propelled furiously out of his wrist in a quick, explosive blast of fire that engulfed the egg in a swirling burst of emotion.

The fire continued to burn even after Zuko stopped directing it, so he pulled his arms up and over his head, guiding the fire away from the egg and to the air above him, then with a clench of his fists he extinguished the flames mid-air. They puffed out with a gasp, as if in protest. But Zuko’s attention was no longer on the fire, or even his form.

The egg had moved.

It was just a nudge, a slight wobble, but he knew he saw it. He bent down, picked it up, and—yes, he could feel it stirring in his arms. He heard light scratching sounds coming from the inside. Then it cracked, releasing a puff of soot. The crack spread across the egg, spider-webbing over its surface until the first piece fell off, revealing the end of a tail. Another piece fell, then another. Zuko started gently picking them off, until, finally, the dragon was free.

His serpentine body stretched about a foot and a half from end to end. His scales were red and shone in the light, brand-new and still slick with albumen. The creature’s pointed head moved from side to side, as if scanning the room, though his eyes were still squinted shut. Tiny nubs that would one day grow into horns peeked out from the top of his head. When he looked up and found Zuko, he opened his eyes slightly and blinked several times. His eyes resembled a cat’s, bright gold with slit pupils.

The dragon was alive. He hadn’t failed.

“Hey,” Zuko said. “You made it out.”

The dragon squeaked out a reply. A small puff of smoke burped out of his mouth in the process. Zuko chuckled. The dragon’s claws, though tiny, seemed fully-formed; they dug into his arms for dear life as he looked down from Zuko’s chest height.

“Don’t worry,” Zuko said as he used his tunic to wipe the dragon off. “I won’t drop you. I guess you can’t fly immediately out of the egg, huh? Maybe Momo can teach you how. Uncle always says he’s smarter than—oh!”

He held the dragon closer to his chest. The creature nuzzled its way into his tunic, half in, half out, like a pet snake, except snakes didn’t feel so warm against his skin. The warmth spread down his stomach and…

…And he needed a new, dry tunic. Well, that could wait a few minutes.

“He’ll definitely want to meet you,” Zuko said as he carried the dragon into the hall. “He’s…not in the best health right now. But seeing you will make him happy, at least. Maybe he can help me give you a good name.”

When he stepped outside into the gardens, the dragon stirred in his arms and twisted around to peek out of his shirt. The sun shone bright and hot, a beautiful, cloudless day. The dragon looked up at the sky and stretched out and upward, as if drawn to the sun’s rays. Zuko lingered a few extra minutes to allow the hatchling to enjoy his first day on Earth. Guards, servants, and visitors that he passed all gaped in astonishment at the creature resting in his shirt.

The door to Iroh’s hospital room opened as Zuko approached it. Katara stepped out and closed the door behind her, not looking as she walked ahead. She nearly crashed into Zuko, causing the dragon to yelp and dig at his chest. Katara looked at the dragon for a second, then up at Zuko. Her eyes were red from recent tears.

Unable to voice the question, he looked to the door, then back at her, but she looked everywhere but at him. He stepped past her and opened the door, which felt impossibly heavy. When he stepped inside, his fears were confirmed.


	10. Spirit of a Dragon

_“In all my years of living, Zuko, I have met many strange and wonderful people. But your friends are, by far, the most extraordinary group I have ever had the fortune of meeting. Take Toph, for example. I admit that when I first saw her, I was concerned; all I saw was a little blind girl lost and alone. But she quickly dispelled that illusion for me—and what an illusion it was!  I pity whatever force or person or object that places itself as an obstacle in her path. She helped me see through what I viewed as an affliction to the raw strength that lies just out of sight.”_

The funeral was in three days, perhaps four. He had lost count of the hours since he’d walked, wordlessly, to his bed, his limbs so heavy that his feet dragged on the ground with each step and the dragon had to hold onto his shoulder for support. When he reached his chambers, he closed all windows and doors, took his royal headpiece out of his hair knot, and dropped it to the ground. He climbed into his bed and slept until he woke up, then he used all of his strength to turn over and slept again.

He didn’t cry, which felt wrong. He hadn’t cried at all, not when someone came to confirm funeral arrangements, or when guards nervously announced the arrival of dignitaries come to pay their respects, or even when he was alone.

Well, he wasn’t ever exactly _alone._ The dragon stayed in the bed with him, curled up by his side. Every once in a while, Zuko could feel the dragon run back and forth under the sheets. Somebody—Aang, maybe—had brought him a dish of water and a plate of fire flakes. Occasionally the dragon would climb off the bed to munch on the flakes, then yank on the bedsheets with his teeth, as if trying to get Zuko out of bed. It didn’t work. Zuko was aware of all of this, but it happened completely outside of him; he had as much agency in the world during this time as a piece of furniture, and the world moved on as if it were so.

At some point, the doors opened, and he heard the plopping sounds of bare feet against the floor. The dragon hissed at the intruder, but Zuko lay still, hoping they would just leave.

“I know you’re awake,” Toph said.

The bed shifted as the earthbender jumped on the other side. The dragon hissed again, but Toph just laughed. “This little guy sounds like a cat,” she said. “Does he have a name yet?”

Zuko shook his head. Toph kicked her feet along the side of the bed as the dragon inched his way closer to her, warming up to her presence.

“Look, I’m not very good with the whole ‘cheering people up’ thing,” she said finally. “I just wanted you to know, your uncle was a great guy. I remember when I first met him. Now, that guy could cheer a person up. He always knew exactly the right thing to say to me when I needed to feel better. Although, I didn’t get some of his metaphors and proverbs. I guess I never will, now.”

She reached out and pet the dragon’s head. He squeaked, but when Toph removed her hand he drew in closer. She stroked his body from head to tail.

“I don’t have to see you to know you’re cute,” she said. She lifted him up into the air in a sudden motion, and he wriggled desperately in her grasp. “Can he fly yet?”

“No,” Zuko said.

“So you _can_ talk!”

Zuko sighed and sat up. Just the movement felt like carrying an entire Fire Navy warship on his shoulders. “Thanks for coming, Toph, really, but I can’t function right now.” He nodded toward the dragon, forgetting the fact that Toph couldn’t see him. “Will you…will you take him with you? He needs sunlight, and meat, and…”

Toph dropped the dragon onto the bed. He scurried to Zuko as if afraid she might change her mind. “Seems to me that’s something you should do.”

“Please?”

She sighed, then stood up. “When Aang wanted to give up earthbending, I told him to suck it up and face his problems head-on. I know you’re grieving, but you can’t just pass all your jobs onto everyone else. Believe me, shutting yourself away won’t solve anything. If he needs to go outside, you need to take him.”

_Face your problems, Zuko._

But he couldn’t yet. He just couldn’t.

Zuko called out to her before she reached the door. “Hey. I think you learned more from Uncle’s parables than you realize.”

She smiled. “Thanks. So did you.”

 

* * *

 

_“Speaking of deceiving appearances, your friend Sokka is truly gifted. I don’t mean in a sort of genius way, though I believe he is smarter than anyone thinks, including himself. No, his gift lies in his creativity and profound sense of duty. If you recall, it was he who tried to stand between us—a fully equipped Fire Navy vessel and crew, not to mention Fire Nation royalty—and his village. Alone! Who **does** that? The only one among your group who I believe can make a better leader than him, is you.”_

Sometime after Toph left—an hour, a day, it didn’t matter—the door opened to his room again. Sokka stepped inside.

“Um, hey, buddy. Just came to check up on you. They say you haven’t left your bed in a few days…”

The dragon peeked his head out from under the covers to snarl at Sokka. Oblivious to the warning, Sokka ran to the bed and picked the dragon up.

“Oh, wow, look at this little guy! I can’t believe it’s a real live OW-OW-OW—!”

He dropped the dragon back onto the bed and sucked the spot on his hand where he’d been bitten. The dragon let out a satisfied growl. “Okay, so, teeth already grown in, got it. Um, dragons aren’t venomous, right? Zuko?”

A smile managed to touch Zuko’s lips for the first time in days, but it quickly faded as reality set back in like smoke in a wildfire. Sokka sat down on the bed, giving the dragon a wide berth this time.

“I never told you this,” Sokka said, “but your uncle and I had a moment a couple years ago.”

Zuko sat up at that. “Really?”

“Uh-huh. It was the anniversary of Mom’s death, and we were still in Ba Sing Se. Katara and I, well, we spend most of that day away from eachother, so we can deal with it our own ways, and then we’ll share happy or funny stories about her at dinner so we can end the day on a good note. Anyway, I was off by myself, in a pretty dark place, when I came to this old tree on a hill on the outskirts of the city. I ran into your uncle there. He looked like he was in the middle of something, but when he saw me, he waved me over.”

Sokka inched a little closer to the dragon. The creature protested with a hiss, but he didn’t strike. Zuko pet his snout to calm him down.

“He was having a picnic under the tree. There was a picture of his son…”

“Lu Ten,” Zuko said.

“Yeah. I didn’t know he lost a son until then.” Sokka shook his head. “When Mom died, I _hated_ the Fire Nation, in a way I didn’t know I was capable of doing. For a long time, I thought every single person from the Fire Nation was evil. I knew, objectively, that was wrong; even Katara understood that there are good and bad people in every nation, and she was even closer to Mom than I was. But it didn’t matter.”

As if realizing he was talking to his friend, the Fire Lord, Sokka cleared his throat and looked away. “I got over it, of course. But even when I accepted that there were good people from the Fire Nation, I didn’t really stop to think _how_ good until I got to know your uncle. He really showed me how completely wrong I was. And when I learned about his son, and how he never had the same hatred for the Earth Kingdom even after he was killed, I felt ashamed, like I had to apologize to him, personally, for ever believing he could be something evil. So I did. I got down on my hands and knees and begged his forgiveness. I’ll never forget what he said to me next.”

“Let me guess: he forgave you?”

Sokka shook his head. “He said, ‘ _My son was a casualty of war and the foolishness of old men. Your mother was an innocent, murdered by a nation that had long-since lost its way. A nation that I led. It is **I** who should be asking forgiveness from **you.** Violence is a cycle, one that needs hatred to keep going. Peace stops the cycle of violence in the world. But forgiveness stops the cycle of violence in ourselves.’”_

Sokka had put on the best impression of Iroh that he could, but his voice just sounded like he was gargling rocks. For the second time, Zuko smiled. “That does sound like him.”

Sokka discreetly wiped his eyes. “Yeah, well, when we finished, uh, talking, he said one other thing. He said I reminded him of his son, in some ways. That he wished we could have met. I felt really proud of that—I still do. So I know how proud of him you must be. If he could make me feel like that after one conversation, I can only imagine what living with him every day must have felt like.”

Zuko nodded as Sokka finished his story. “Thank you for telling me that.”

Sokka put a supportive hand on Zuko’s shoulder. The dragon jumped at his arm and clamped down with his claws, wrapping around Sokka’s arm like a snake catching its prey. Sokka jumped off the bed, waving his arm up and down. “Get-him-off-get-him-off-get-him-off!”

Zuko stood on wobbly feet, grabbed Sokka’s arm mid-swing, and gently squeezed the dragon’s sides. The dragon unlatched from Sokka and unwrapped his body. “Sorry about that,” Zuko said.

“No problem,” Sokka said with blurry eyes and a squeaky voice. “No problem at all. Barely felt it.” He tucked his arm behind his back and cleared his throat. “Does he have a name yet?”

He hadn’t been able to think of a decent name. He hadn’t particularly tried.

“We can help you out with that. I once had a pet koala-otter named Fred, and—“

Zuko held up a hand to stop him. “That’s okay. I feel like that’s something I should do alone.”

“All right. But, hey, you don’t have to be in here and grieve alone. At least get a shave, okay?”

Surprised, Zuko felt his face and, sure enough, he felt where hair had grown out unmanaged. “I will. I’m not there yet, but I will. Thanks, Sokka.”

“Any time. Now, I’m just gonna go…find some bandages.”

* * *

“ _You are lucky to have someone like Katara in your life. Not just because she can fight, or because she can heal, but because she chooses to heal when she can fight. That takes a kind of strength too few people have. Take that with what she has lost, and I believe she may well be the strongest person I have ever met. The Avatar will learn much from her, and I believe you will, too.”_

It was the day of the funeral. He had miraculously summoned the strength to get out of bed long enough to shave and comb his hair, but when he returned to his room he sat on the bed and slumped over. The dragon hopped onto his back and climbed up to his shoulder. Zuko rubbed his chin with his finger.

“I’m sorry you had to come into the world amid all this sadness,” he said. “There’s a lot more to it than that. It’s just really hard to see right now.”

His bedroom door opened. Katara peeked in, then stepped through. She wore a traditional Fire Nation mourning dress, a deeply red skirt with dark purple hem along the edges, symbolizing a sunset. As always, she wore her mother’s necklace around her neck, the only item that stood out as distinctly Water Tribe.

“You’re not dressed?” She asked.

“I’m getting to it. I just need more time.”

“The funeral’s in three hours.”

Zuko looked up at the window, which was still covered in a curtain. “Already?”

Katara sat next to him on the bed. Unlike with everyone else, the dragon didn’t hiss or bite at her. Instead, he hopped off Zuko’s shoulder and immediately climbed into her lap. She lifted her arms and made a strained expression.

“I think he likes you,” Zuko said.

“Oh, good,” Katara said, keeping her hands off the dragon. “I…like him too. He’s like a…walrus-eel back home. Yes, an adorable, slithery, winged walrus-eel.” She hesitantly lowered her arms and touched the dragon’s body. He made a happy chirping noise, which seemed to help her relax. “Are you sure you’re okay to go?”

Zuko looked away. “No. I feel…it’s ridiculous, but…”

“Like it’ll be official? That by acknowledging he’s gone with a service, he really will be?”

He looked back at her. She was freely stroking the dragon’s back now, but her attention was far away.

“Can I ask…how did you handle it? When your mother…when she was gone?”

Katara’s hand stopped. She took a deep breath. “Well…” her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “The circumstances were very different, but…I was a lot like you, at first. I felt so… _exhausted._ Like the slightest movements and mental exertions were enough to put me in bed forever. When it was time for her funeral, Sokka and Dad had to pull me up and do my hair. I had lopsided pigtails for weeks because of that. Anyway, it wasn’t easy getting there. I just knew it was never going to get any easier, so I made myself do it. Again and again, each day, I got out of bed, fixed my hair, went outside, did whatever chores the village needed, and went home. I don’t know when it got to the point where I could say I felt better…but it did.”

Zuko sighed. “Is it bad that I was hoping there’d be some special waterbending cure for this?”

“If there were, I’d use it. I didn’t know your uncle very well, but he always seemed to light up the room anywhere he went. As hard as it is, I know he’d want you to get up and face the day, Zuko.”

“Yeah. I know. Hey, where’s Aang? He’s the only one who hasn’t tried to cheer me up yet.”

“He’s getting ready. I think he wants to say something at the funeral.”

It felt like it took every bit of energy he had, but Zuko stood up. “I guess I’d better get ready, then.”

He took the dragon from Katara, and he made his way up to Zuko’s shoulder. When they exited his bedroom, Sokka, Toph, and Momo were all there, waiting for him. Momo shrieked when he saw the dragon on Zuko’s shoulder and flew off down the hall; their laughter at the incident pushed all of the negativity of the day away, if only for a moment, and Zuko felt like he could laugh with them.

* * *

 “ _There are many lessons in life, Zuko. You have already learned more than most men will in a lifetime. Some are easy, like the basics of firebending. Some are much harder to learn. Life can be a cruel teacher. But you are not the only student learning these lessons. You have your friends. You have the Avatar, who is wise well beyond his years--and he has you. You have been my student, but you have also been my teacher, and I have learned so much from you. Never forget that you are both a teacher and a student in life, Zuko. Never presume to elevate yourself above the lowliest among your people, nor to diminish yourself among the greatest; one day, you’ll understand that there’s no such thing as either. And always remember, I will always remain by your side, even if it is in another lifetime. I eagerly look forward to learning more from you.”_

He was dressed. His feet carried him automatically to the Capitol square, where his uncle rested in a casket on an ornately arranged pyre. He passed, on foot, crowds of people, some who had come to see the spectacle of a royal funeral, but most people who, in some way, Iroh had touched. None of them could comprehend the extent to which they owed him their lives. Or the extent to which he owed him his own. The crowds gave way to dozens and dozens of rows of seats, wood and metal chairs that were carved for the occasion, and when they were full, Toph created makeshift seats using her earth bending.

Aang was there, at the steps leading to the funeral pyre, wearing the draping robes of an airbender, but the robes were clasped together with a Fire Nation insignia at his front. His friends sat in the front of the crowd, not a dry eye among them; even Toph, who for the first time since Zuko had met her was dressed in formal clothes, had to wipe tears from her face. Aang embraced Zuko in a supportive gesture that defied royal etiquette but helped Zuko’s spirit. The dragon stayed on his shoulder, unwilling to let go even when Zuko tried to leave him behind. Passersby gawked at the creature like something from a fairy tale.

The flag of the Fire Nation was draped over the casket’s surface.

At Zuko’s arrival, the Fire Nation anthem played, sonorous and triumphant. This would not be a day of loss. No, they were there to celebrate the life of the man who would have been their leader.

When the anthem finished, Zuko spoke.

“The man resting here means more to me than words can express, but I owe it to him to try. He had two loves in life: making tea and playing pai sho. I’m afraid I possess no great skill in either.”

A sympathetic chuckle moved through the crowd. Zuko went on:

“He also loved his country and its people. He loved what we could offer the world besides war and suffering. He loved the world, too; he saw beauty in the filthiest alley, riches in the poorest village, and honor in the lowest men. He experienced loss, like the one we experience today, and he learned; it was the hardest lesson one can be taught, but he learned. And he strove to teach us all every day. For some of us, it was how to play the tsungi horn. For others, it was how to be a man, and to find what it is we really want. Whatever lessons he had to teach us, we were so, so lucky to have a teacher as wise, and kind, and patient, as him.”

Unable to speak anymore, Zuko stepped back, afraid that the Fire Nation would see their leader break down if he tried to continue. Aang stepped up.

“Life is full of illusions,” Aang said, his soft voice carrying well in the quiet night. “Illusions cloud our vision and make the real world harder to see. The greatest illusion, and the hardest to learn how to break, is separation. Iroh is the only person I have ever known who could see past that illusion with ease. He didn’t see us as nations or elements; to him, we were all the same people, locked in a struggle within ourselves. He also knew that death was a part of that illusion, perhaps the greatest part. It’s the part that is hardest for us, but we must remember that death and life are the same, you and I are the same, and the spirit world and the physical world are the same. There has never been a time when Iroh has not existed, and there will never be a time when he does not exist. Whether his spirit returns to us in another form or he moves on to another place, we can take comfort knowing that what made him such a great man is carried within us all at all times, if only we allow ourselves to see it.”

As he finished with tears running down his face, Aang looked to Zuko, and they acknowledged eachother with a nod. Zuko faced the casket.

“Take care of him, Cousin.”

He and Aang took a deep breath together. Zuko pulled into that breath all of the happy memories with his uncle, all the tired moments when he had given up, all the love he had, love of people, love of family, love of _life;_  the beat of his heart and the blood in his veins, all the life his uncle dearly loved and that he, too, loved, became fire.

The heat was almost enough to throw him back. Not since Sozin’s Comet did he feel such intense power behind his own firebending. He barely noticed Aang firebending next to him, or the Sages as they, too, contributed their fire. From the corner of his eye, he saw someone at the edge of the crowd turn and leave.

_Was that…? No. Azula wouldn’t want to be here anyway._

The dragon climbed down Zuko’s outstretched arm and looked curiously at the stream of fire coming from his hand, the heat apparently not bothering him at all. His gaze followed the fire to the casket, and his back curled up, wings outstretched, like a spring tightening. He struck forward, mouth open, but no fire came out.

“Breathe,” Zuko said to the dragon. “Firebending comes from the breath, not the muscles.” The dragon turned on his arm, listening. He took a deep, measured breath to show the dragon what he meant. The dragon cocked his head, then turned back to the pyre. Zuko watched his slim body expand and retract as he took in deep gulps of air. With one last determined lunge forward, the dragon added its own small, steady stream of fire to the one blasting from Zuko’s fist. He felt the heat from the dragon’s body against his bare skin, and had it gone on for too long, he might even have been injured. But the dragon was still small and could only put out so much before his flame turned to smoke.

“You got it,” Zuko said. “You did great. Thank you. For everything.”

The dragon burped a cloud of smoke into the air as they continued to burn.

* * *

 She could never be sure when exactly she made the decision to leave, and, indeed, Azula certainly couldn’t articulate why. Even if Iroh hadn’t lied to her—it was hard to believe the old fuddy-duddy capable of lying, but she knew all about the art of deception—the thought of what she was doing, where she was going, was ludicrous. And yet, as the hours turned to days and the days into weeks, as her feet left dry land to stow away on a supply ship and then returned to dry land again, she still moved forward, carrying the scrolls her uncle had left her.

_This is ridiculous. You’re a princess of the Fire Nation, not some Earth Kingdom peasant. You belong in the palace. Even if…even if the idea might have some merit._

She shook her head. Passersby wisely gave the young woman muttering to herself a wide berth. She had gotten better in the years since her mother betrayed her and cost her the throne—she refused to call it a “breakdown” like everyone else; princesses didn’t _have_ breakdowns—but there were still knives in the dark she had to be on the alert for. Especially here, in the Upper Ring of Ba Sing Se, the city _she,_ and not her dearly departed uncle, had conquered. Despite her history with the city, however, nobody seemed to recognize her. The Earth King was probably the only one who would, and he stayed glued to his throne. She could probably waltz right into the palace and conquer the Earth Kingdom again, if she wanted.

Good thing she was here for something else.

She found the building she was looking for, a green-and-golden shop with a green shale roof and a sign with a green dragon wrapping around the words “The Jasmine Dragon.” The building was nestled in a courtyard with a large, square fountain centered in the front. A wooden sign hung on the front door that read _Under New Management._

“You’re too late, sadly,” said a man behind her. She jumped and nearly grabbed his neck, but he jumped too and backed away.

“Do you always sneak up on people?” Azula asked. “Who sent you? The Dai Li? My uncle? I _knew_ this was a trap, I _knew_ he—“

The man waved his hands in the air. He was dressed in fine clothes—fine for the Earth Kingdom, anyway—denoting his status as a resident of the Upper Ring. “No, no, nobody sent me! I was just saying the place is closed down.”

“I can see that, thanks.” She relaxed a bit, thankful that she hadn’t used her firebending. Exposure this far into enemy territory could be fatal.

“Shame, too. The old owner was such a nice guy. I wonder who’ll take it over now?” The man dipped his head and continued on to whatever hole he lived in.

Azula pulled out the scrolls her uncle gave her. Deeds, titles, proofs of ownership, licenses to sell tea in the city walls. She would need to take a new name, but that wouldn’t be especially difficult in a city full of refugees.

Wrapped in one of the scrolls was a key. She took it out and used it to unlock the door. A thin layer of dust had accumulated on the floor of the shop, but the furniture was high-quality wood, with smooth, bright green marble tabletops that would cost a fortune to make. Well, if her uncle shamed their entire lineage by serving tea to peasants, at least he did it in style.

She lit a candle with her fingertips and held it up in front of her. There was a note on the front counter. She put the candle down where she could read it.

_My dear niece,_

_If you are reading this, then you have decided to come here, and I have likely moved on to the next great adventure. I am sure you have your reasons for coming, but in case we did not get to have as thorough a conversation as I hope, I would like to explain a few things._

_This shop is yours, to do with as you see fit. There are no strings attached, no traps, no malicious intentions. What use do I have of such things, now that I am (or will soon be) gone? Whether you keep the shop, or burn it, or sell it, or give it away, is entirely up to you._

_Tea has many soothing properties. It has helped calm my mind on days when it was most turbulent. There is nothing quite like the steam of a fresh brew for a headache, or on a cold night. The routine of running a shop also brings its own relaxation, in a way. If you are wondering why I left this to you and not your brother, the answer is simple: he will be too busy in his role as Fire Lord to maintain a shop thousands of miles away. You will make the most use of it._

_Whatever you decide to do with this shop, whatever road you take in life, above all else, I hope you will find happiness and contentment._

_I hope you take the time to enjoy many cups of tea in your life._

_Love, your proud uncle._

_P. S.: There is a list of recipes in the back that you might find useful, if you so desire._

She re-read the note several times before carefully folding it and putting it into her pocket. She picked up the candle and took it to the back, where she could smell the mountains of tea leaves her uncle kept in supply. Sure enough, nailed to the wall was a list of recipes and brewing times, measurements and sweeteners, descriptions of flowers and the characteristics that distinguished them from poison. That last bit could be useful in the future.

She extinguished the candle and exited the shop. The door clicked shut behind her. So, this was to be all hers, was it? She, once heir apparent to the throne, was to don an apron and serve hot leaf juice to rich old men, hire a bunch of serving staff to do her bidding, in the most prestigious area in the Earth Kingdom…as opposed to what?

She spotted a sign resting on the window. _Welcome to the Jasmine Dragon:_ _The best tea in Ba Sing Se!_  it read.

She scoffed. “Oh, Uncle. You were such a small thinker. That always was your downfall.” It was embarrassing, really.

She looked up and down the street for passersby. Satisfied that she was alone, she made a small blowtorch with her finger and wrote with the fire onto the sign. When she was done, she stepped back and read it again.

_Welcome to the Jasmine Dragon: The best tea in ~~Ba Sing Se~~ the world!_

“There,” she said. “That’s better.”

* * *

When the ceremony was over and the people had all returned home, Zuko and Aang remained in the square. The pyre had been reduced to smoldering ashes and blackened metal for street sweepers to clean up over the next day or two. Zuko held a jade urn that contained all that remained of his uncle’s physical form, which he would place in the royal tomb far beneath the palace, with all of their ancestors, next to a pai sho board.

“You holding up okay?” Aang asked.

Zuko nodded. “Yeah. It hurts, but I think I can handle it now.”

The dragon wrapped around his neck made a gentle purr.

“He’s definitely a lot smaller than Roku’s dragon,” Aang said. “Have you thought of a name for him yet?”

Zuko gently scratched the dragon’s chin. “Druk.”

“Nice name!”

They walked in silence for a time, but Zuko was glad for the chance to reflect. He felt like he should have said so much more at the eulogy—but all the words in the world would never be enough to encapsulate the amazing life he held in his hands. Memories would have to do.

“Roku told me something else about dragons,” Aang said. “He said that someone who had achieved the peak of wisdom was reborn one last time as a dragon.”

“Really?”

“Well, that was what people believed back then, anyway.”

Zuko gently petted Druk’s head. The dragon yawned contentedly against Zuko’s neck.

“Makes sense,” Zuko said.

They continued along the path to the palace. 

* * *

 

Bi Nang did not expect Iroh to _actually_ put in a word for him at the palace, but when a retinue of guards showed up to inform him he’d been summoned by the Fire Lord personally, he realized his error.

He had no formal wear and no place to bathe. When he arrived, some servants quickly wiped him off with wet, hot towels and tried to make him as presentable as possible, but they had no solution for his tattered shirt or bare feet. Oh, well. Fire Lord Zuko probably wouldn’t banish him for looking dirty, although his predecessor would have.

The throne room was vast and dark, save for the far end where the Fire Lord sat, veiled in the flames. The entrance was relatively cool, but Bi Nang could feel the temperature rise as he drew closer. He knew not to come any closer than fifty paces, so when he reached that distance he stopped and knelt. At this distance, he could see the young Fire Lord’s features much more clearly. Aside from the grisly scar on his eye, he had a gentle countenance to him that was a welcome, if not exactly regal, distinguishment from his father.

Something stirred on Zuko’s shoulder, and Bi Nang realized an animal was sitting there, watching him. Some kind of monkey-snake?

“Thank you for coming,” the Fire Lord said, as though Bi Nang had a choice in the matter.

“Uh, of course, Fire Lord.”

“You met my uncle?”

Bi Nang smiled, despite himself. “I did, Fire Lord. It was a meeting I won’t easily forget. How is he faring?”

The resulting silence lasted for so long that Bi Nang risked breaching etiquette and looked up to see if the Fire Lord was still there. He was, and he looked surprised. Finally, he spoke.

“He passed away several days ago. You didn’t see the funeral?”

Bi Nang was taken aback. Was that what that noise from the square was?

“Er, no, Fire Lord. I don’t get mail—no home, you see. Wow, he seemed fine when we met; fine enough to kick my butt, at least…”

“Wait. You _fought_ my uncle?”

_Ooh, good job, old man, just tell the Fire Lord you fought a member of the royal family._

“Well, it wasn’t so much a fight as it was him teaching me a lesson, really.”

It was then that Zuko did something Bi Nang never expected: he laughed. The fires around him shuddered as if they, too, were laughing, and his voice echoed throughout the throne room. When he finished, Zuko stood and the flames parted to let him pass through. He stepped down off his platform. Bi Nang dipped his head lower, but the Fire Lord put a hand on his shoulder and bid him stand. That’s when he saw the creature on Zuko’s shoulder. It was definitely not a monkey-snake.

“Yes, that was my uncle, all right. I once saw him teach a thief how to fight better—after he had tried to rob us. Oh, this is Druk.”

Bi Nang blinked. How on Earth was he supposed to react to this, the most powerful human being in the nation acting like an old pal? “I, um…”

“In fact,” Zuko said, “his last request was for me to give you a helping hand.”

“Wha—really?”

“Yes. Tell me, Bi Nang, do you like pai sho? I have a lot of stories about Uncle I could tell you…”

Zuko led him out of the throne room, the dragon growling happily on his shoulder.

 

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I mentioned at the end of my previous story, my grandfather died last February. Like Iroh is to Zuko, my grandfather was very special to me; I did not always appreciate him like I should have, and many men would have run out of patience with me long, long ago. But he taught me what being a man really means, and despite my initial reluctance to learn, he taught me many important lessons about life when other, lesser men in my life would try to teach me otherwise. As I grew older, I eventually came to my senses and realized how lucky I am, and how lucky the world is, to have had someone like him. 
> 
> This got me thinking constantly about death, and how we have to continue on even when the people with the greatest impact on our lives must go. I picked this fandom to explore these thoughts because Uncle Iroh is one of the most beloved characters in all of fiction, an inspiration so rarely seen (on screen or in real life) and so important to so many (including myself) that no other character could possibly do. I also prefer to write canon-compliant stories, insomuch as it’s possible, and since we know Iroh does pass away at some point between Airbender and Korra, this seemed the best vehicle to tell this story. 
> 
> I threw in a few references while I was at it. Zuko’s line to Druk, “firebending comes from the breath,” was word-for-word what Iroh says to Zuko in the beginning of the series. The line in Aang’s eulogy, “there has never been a time when Iroh did not exist, and there will never come a time when he ceases to exist,” comes from the Bhagavad Gita. Iroh’s instructions to Zuko about going slow, watching money, and watching out for long-haired girls were the last bits of advice my grandfather gave me the last time I spoke to him. The description of the Pai Sho board comes from the official rules of the mobile game released years ago.


End file.
